


No Longer Comatose

by oorrrt



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Convenience Store AU, Curses, M/M, urban fantasy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 11:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20674895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorrrt/pseuds/oorrrt
Summary: En route to lifting his curse, Hwanwoong stops by Geonhak's convenience store.





	No Longer Comatose

**Author's Note:**

> my excuse for writing this was to practice worldbuilding in a short piece and i can't say i was successful but i'm finally posting it bc oneus released us tour dates on my bday so i guess i gotta con my way into one of the concerts :/
> 
> title from fall out boy - hold me tight or don't

The door chimes open.

Geonhak sets his newspaper aside and patters downstairs to see who’s come to visit. For the few seconds it takes to get to his store on the ground floor, he likes to take guesses at who it could be. Usually a couple people, exhausted from the long road. Sometimes a family with kids that clamor for snacks. Sometimes a girl, looking a little concerned, while her partner fills up their gas tank outside. Rarely, someone alone.

It’s quiet. He almost misses the small man crouched by the chips, running a hand through his white-blond hair. After a full minute of him staring blankly at the pretzels, Geonhak lightly clears his throat.

The stranger whips around, eyes wide. _Like a deer, _Geonhak’s brain supplies. _Helpless._ As quickly as he had turned, the man tears his gaze away from Geonhak, looking down at his own feet.

“Welcome,” greets Geonhak, feeling slightly dizzy.

“Hello,” the other responds, still not meeting Geonhak’s eyes.

Geonhak gestures vaguely around the store. “Feel free to take your time, look around.”

“Thanks.” The man reaches down to grab a bag of pretzels and turns away, making his way slowly through the aisles. Geonhak notices he’s limping slightly, steps heavy with fatigue. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember hearing a car pull in, and he doesn’t think he was so wrapped up in his newspaper to notice. He peers out the window by the register.

Nothing.

Well, the two gas pumps, and the air dispenser, and the road, and the forest. But no cars, no sign of life.

Geonhak stares back at the stranger. He’s looking at him. For a split second their eyes meet again, and Geonhak forgets what he’d just been thinking about. The guy quickly diverts his gaze, and the fog in Geonhak’s brain starts to dissipate.

Right. The car. Or lack thereof. Geonhak’s store is the only thing on an approximately 400-mile stretch of road. Three hours in either direction to see any signs of civilization. Four without a good car. In every other direction, wilderness.

Maybe his car broke down somewhere along the way? A little too far from his starting point to go back, but unsure of what was forward? But there were signs on either end of the road, warning travelers of how long it was, to fill up their gas tanks before they headed out, to _always go with someone._ The woods were one of the few places where magic lay untouched by people. Or their curses.

Maybe the lack of car had something to do with the stranger’s curse. Everyone had one, though the degree of their severities vastly differed from person to person. Either way, whatever the reason, the man now roaming the store had to have been walking for at least a few days.

And now with this mystery on his mind, Geonhak realizes he can’t stop staring at him.

His small frame looks even smaller under a large tan jacket, bearing the weight of a stuffed backpack. His eyes never still, darting around the shelves all packed tightly with food. Messy hair, mud on his pants, sagging shoulders. But something about him, Geonhak thinks, is so _alluring_.

Question after question tugs at Geonhak’s lips but he presses them tightly together. It’s usually better not to ask.

Geonhak tries shaking his head free of his thoughts as the stranger walks up and dumps his armload of snacks onto the counter. He still won’t look at Geonhak. Geonhak scans the items slowly, not looking at him either in case it was a nervous thing.

“You have a lot of stuff here,” the stranger speaks up. “But this store is in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s magic,” Geonhak says, bagging the pretzels. “I need to clean and organize and manage the store, but the food and gas never run out.”

Hearing no immediate response, Geonhak quickly backtracks. “I mean, it’s fine, it’s not magic food or anything, plenty of other people have come through, I’ve eaten lots of things. It’s fine, I promise!”

“Don’t worry, I believe you.” The man laughs, a little too loudly, wetly gurgling up from his throat. And Geonhak can’t help but look up.

His customer’s face is pointed towards the floor, but Geonhak can clearly see his eyes, crinkled into two moons. The tip of his tongue peeks out between his teeth. Geonhak’s stomach feels a little warm.

“How many other people work here?” The man looks up at where Geonhak has paused his bagging.

Geonhak can feel the world dim around him, fall into a gentle blur, two points of focus on the stranger’s eyes.

He can’t take his gaze away from those eyes, even when they’re abruptly covered by small hands. “It’s just me,” Geonhak says, now staring at dirty fingernails. “My curse,” he feels compelled to explain. “I can’t sleep. So I run the store alone.” Even as he speaks, he’s not sure why he’s sharing this. People tend not to talk about their curses, even if they’re benign, both to protect themselves and to follow an unspoken code of conduct.

“That must get terribly dull.”

Geonhak shrugs, forces himself to focus back on the register. “It gets a little lonely. But you get used to it, you know?”

“I… think I can understand being lonely.”

Something about the man’s voice twists at Geonhak’s gut. He feels half out of his mind as he throws his hand forward. “I’m Geonhak. It’s nice to meet you.”

The stranger takes his hand in his own, gaze trained on where they touch. “Hwanwoong.”

“Hwanwoong,” Geonhak repeats, rolling the vowels around on his tongue. Hwanwoong smiles a small smile, but his eyes dart around restlessly, periodically flickering to the door.

Geonhak slams his palms on the counter. Too loudly on accident – Hwanwoong flinches.

Geonhak doesn’t let that deter him. “I noticed you don’t have a car here. You’re probably exhausted. Why don’t you spend the night?”

Hwanwoong vigorously shakes his head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“It really wouldn’t be a problem,” Geonhak insists. “There’s no one else here. I have a lot of spare blankets. And it’s not like I _need _a bed anyways!”

“No, no. I really couldn’t.” Hwanwoong’s voice carries a finality that makes Geonhak falter. Maybe he’d been too insistent. He just now sees how that could be creepy, coming from a stranger running a magic gas station.

“At least let me make you dinner. And then you can be on your way.”

A loud grumble from Hwanwoong’s stomach betrays him. “That would be nice.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck and puts a few bills on the counter.

Geonhak pushes it all back. “I don’t need this.” Before the smaller can protest, he grabs all of Hwanwoong’s bags and makes his way to the stairs, gesturing for him to come along. Hwanwoong takes one last peer out the front door before following him.

Geonhak pushes open the door to his upstairs flat, feeling glad that he’s a pretty tidy person. He places Hwanwoong’s bags by the coffee table, gestures at the couch as he lights a candle.

Hwanwoong pulls out a can of mango juice and makes himself comfortable. “This is cute,” he says, looking around and cracking open the can. Geonhak fixates on the sound for a moment. It’s been a long time since he’s had any visitors, and Hwanwoong looks so _normal,_ so at home_._ Geonhak feels a weird ache in his stomach.

“Thanks,” Geonhak stutters after too long of a pause, if Hwanwoong’s quick glance is anything to go by. He clears his throat. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

Geonhak digs around his kitchen. “Any requests?”

“Anything warm would be wonderful.”

“I can do that.” Geonhak sets some rice on the stove to heat up, and starts washing an eggplant. “I have the last of the summer veggies and the start of the fall veggies. I’ll cook those, if that’s okay.”

“That sounds great.” Hwanwoong’s voice comes from just behind him, and Geonhak startles, not having noticed him approach.

He turns his head to face him. From up close, he can see how deep Hwanwoong’s eyebags are, like ash smudged hastily onto the thin skin. He’s small enough that Geonhak can see the top of his head too, and his hair is coated in grime.

A warm hand suddenly grabs his wrist. “Careful there,” Hwanwoong says, “you almost just cut yourself with that knife.”

Geonhak feels his face warm. He can’t tell whether it’s from embarrassment or Hwanwoong’s hand touching his. “Oh. Sorry,” he manages to say.

Hwanwoong laughs. “It’s nothing to be sorry about? I just came to ask if you wanted help with anything.” He pulls his hand away and Geonhak misses the feeling already.

“No, it’s alright. You can rest.” Geonhak thinks. “Actually, if you want to get washed up, you can take a shower? The bathroom’s the second door down and I have extra towels under the sink.”

“If that’s okay with you.”

Geonhak twists into a confused smile. “If it wasn’t okay I wouldn’t have offered?” He turns around to look at Hwanwoong again.

Their eyes meet.

Geonhak spirals. He feels like he’s gulping sweet lungfuls of air after holding his breath a few seconds too long, but also like he’s being pushed underwater, currents pulling him into shreds. And the space between the pieces of his former self are filled with Hwanwoong, his eyes, his laugh, the warmth of his hand.

If asked, he wouldn’t be able to articulate what Hwanwoong’s eyes actually looked like. But they were beautiful, he feels it, he _knows _it, and that’s all that matters.

The knife in his hand clatters into the sink.

_“Fuck,” _Hwanwoong says, slips into the bathroom and clicks the lock shut before Geonhak can say anything.

Geonhak glares at the knife. He’s breathing normally, but that feels so boring now that he knows what it feels like to breathe under Hwanwoong’s influence. _Under his influence,_ Geonhak thinks, _like he’s some sort of drug._

He grabs the rest of his vegetables and begins to methodically clean them to get a grasp of his bearings again. He hears the shower turn on, and once again the fleeting wish of regular company slips through his mind. He shakes his head violently, takes it out on the squash.

The vegetables are just about done cooking, simmering on the stove when Hwanwoong peeks out from the bathroom.

“Dinner’s ready,” Geonhak says, dividing the rice into two bowls.

“Are you feeling okay?” Hwanwoong asks.

Geonhak hums. “I’m fine. Feel normal.”

“Alright,” Hwanwoong says, but his steps are slow, cautious.

They sit down side by side on the couch with their bowls. “Sorry I don’t have a table, and the food isn’t much,” Geonhak says.

Hwanwoong pats his shoulder. “It’s fine, dude. Thank you for making it.” He takes a big spoonful and shoves it into his mouth, chewing for a long time. “I take it back, it’s more than fine. This tastes great.”

Geonhak swallows his mouthful. “I make it a lot, since all the food I have is the stuff I sell in the store, and the vegetables I grow out back.”

“Ooh, gardening. That sounds like a good way to pass time.”

“It is nice,” Geonhak agrees. “Do you like to garden?”

“I never really got to. I wasn’t allowed outside much when I was younger, and then we moved to a city that had no space for gardens.” Hwanwoong’s voice sounds melancholy, his face trained down at his food.

“How long have you been walking to get here?” Geonhak asks, partially to change the subject, partially out of curiosity.

Hwanwoong taps his spoon on the edge of his bowl. “About a week? I’m not exactly sure, it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re so alone.”

_So alone. _Geonhak understands that. “Don’t they stop you from going alone?”

“Who’s there to stop me?”

“There’s the sign.” Now that Geonhak thinks about it, he’s not sure if he’s ever seen the sign in person, or if it’s just a fabricated memory from the stories of other visitors passing through.

“_Warning, 400 miles, fill your gas tanks, bring food, bring a buddy._ Yeah, that sign is there. But it’s not like it’s enforced. What’s a sign gonna do.”

Geonhak shrugs. “But… Why did you come, then? And why alone?”

Hwanwoong pauses to chew. “This is a secret, so don’t tell anyone,” he jokes. “I’m on a self-help trip.”

Geonhak frowns. “I’m never going to see anyone you know. And what?”

Hwanwoong starts shaking his leg up and down. “I’ve been researching for a while. Ever since I flunked out of college, I’ve been trying to figure out how to change my life.”

“How to change your life?”

“I’m going to break my curse.”

Geonhak pauses with his spoon halfway to his lips. He tries to look at Hwanwoong, but the other man’s eyes are still fixed downwards.

The curse-breaking quest. He’s heard about it, of course he has – everyone has a curse, there have to be people that think that theirs is not worth living with, that would do anything to make their curses disappear. But breaking a curse is impossible. The only sources that report on success are hidden in personal records, unreliable, sensational, and wildly differing. You couldn’t possibly follow those accounts to any reasonable end.

Yet here is someone sitting by him on his couch, eating a bowl of rice. Stopping by en route to breaking his curse.

“You think it’s impossible,” Hwanwoong says, clearly noticing Geonhak’s pause.

“I mean– If you– I guess it could, I–”

Hwanwoong waves a hand to cut him off. “It’s okay, you can think I’m crazy. That’s why I haven’t told anyone.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy!”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. There’s probably a reason, a really important one, that made you do this. You’ve researched it for years. Clearly it means a lot.”

“Something meaning a lot doesn’t mean it’s reasonable.”

Geonhak sets down his bowl on the side table. “I don’t know if I believe that curses can be broken. But I think if you keep looking, you can find the answer to anything,” he says carefully.

Hwanwoong sighs. “Any sort of answer would be a start.” He gets up to put his empty bowl in the sink.

“Don’t bother washing it,” Geonhak calls after him. Hwanwoong’s already scrubbing it clean. Geonhak scarfs down the last few bites of his rice and joins him in the kitchen, where Hwanwoong snatches his bowl out of his hands and washes that too.

“Go sit down,” Geonhak says. He can’t stop a fond smile from spreading across his face. “Rest your legs for a bit before you need to leave.”

Hwanwoong quietly makes his way back to the couch and sips at his mango juice. Geonhak dries the two bowls and stows them away, washes the knife, and wipes down his cutting board. He packs the leftover veggies and rice into containers and puts them in his fridge. He’s just finished filling the rice pot with water to clean it later when he realizes Hwanwoong has been eerily quiet. He glances over at the couch.

Hwanwoong’s asleep. Slumped unceremoniously over the armrest, empty juice can tucked between his legs.

If he’s been traveling for a week on foot, he’s been sleeping in the woods. Geonhak reasons his old couch is the safest and most comfortable place Hwanwoong has been in a long time.

He only deliberates for a moment before he goes to throw the can away. Hwanwoong doesn’t even budge, his breath even and slow. Geonhak grits his teeth and lifts the small man, being intensely careful not to jostle him awake. He’s so light Geonhak has no trouble bringing him into his room, but he stops before setting him down, getting lost in thoughts about how pleasant it was to be holding him, warm, his gentle breaths ghosting his shoulder.

Geonhak grimaces. He can’t hold Hwanwoong until he wakes up, that’s weird and creepy. He sets him down onto the bed instead, and tucks his softest blanket around the sleeping body.

He doesn’t want to accidentally make a noise and wake the guy up, so he heads back downstairs, hoping Hwanwoong’s curse-breaking quest will allow for sleep breaks.

Once settled behind the counter, the memories of all the time Geonhak has been here seem misplaced and out of time. He can’t remember what he could possibly have done for what must have been years. Not even two minutes have passed since he sat down, but he feels so antsy.

He goes outside to check on his plants. It’s too dark to see anything.

Comes back inside to clean the store. He cleaned it yesterday, the floors are still shining.

Decides to take inventory of his stock. He gets through all the assorted nuts before realizing that doing this has no value.

Grabbing the smallest bag of roasted almonds, he sits back down behind the counter. He looks out the window. It’s too dark to see anything but the two gas pumps, though he thinks he can make out the tree line in the distance. Or maybe he’s just memorized it at this point.

He pops a few almonds into his mouth and decides to draw a car. It’s unfortunate that there are none parked outside, because he’s having a hard time conjuring one up from memory. He gets about ten pages into his notepad and starts drawing car parts instead. A window, a license plate, a lot of wheels. More wheels, all with a different number of spokes.

The sun rises. He goes to check up on his garden. Nothing has changed. He comes inside and sits back down to draw some more, but he’s filled his entire notepad with car parts. He draws plants in the spaces between them, threading through the wheels, growing out of the windows. He thinks about Hwanwoong filling the spaces too.

Late afternoon sunlight filters through the windows, lighting specks of dust that drift lazily around the store.

Hwanwoong runs downstairs.

He stops at the bottom, looking at Geonhak’s chest with renewed energy and surprise.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says.

Geonhak huffs. “Why are you making fun of me? There’s nothing to do! Besides, I filled a whole notepad with car drawings.”

“Cars? Wait, no, that’s not what I meant.” Hwanwoong shifts his backpack straps. “You didn’t do anything to _me.”_

“Why would I do anything to you?”

Hwanwoong blinks at the ground. “I guess you deserve to know.” He heaves the deepest sigh Geonhak’s ever heard. “My curse. When I look at people in the eye, they become, um, fixated? Obsessed? With me. They’ll do anything for me.”

“That seems pretty cool. It’s like. Crazy charisma.”

Hwanwoong crosses his arms. “No, think about it. Curses are never that simple, you should already know.” He gnaws on his upper lip. “Like if you told someone you can’t sleep, they might think it’s cool that you never have to sleep, that you have almost twice as much time as everyone else. But you’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

Geonhak takes a deep breath. “Yeah. You can’t just function without ever sleeping. I feel like I’m always just half of a person, and the rest is something I’ll never have.”

Hwanwoong nods. “So people will do anything for me, and they’ll do anything for _me._ To have me.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I… I didn’t flunk out of college, I pretended to. I was tired of being harassed. People tried to kidnap me when I was a kid, and one person even tried to kill me, he would rather have me dead than not be his.” Hwanwoong rubs his eyes. “My own family could never let me go, wanted me to stay with them forever.”

Geonhak doesn’t know what to say. “I’m. I’m so sorry.”

“No one just lets me… be.” Hwanwoong looks up, eyes not quite meeting Geonhak’s, but resting on his lips. “Except you.”

They stand silent, Hwanwoong watching Geonhak’s mouth and Geonhak looking at Hwanwoong’s nose.

After a minute, Hwanwoong walks up and takes Geonhak’s hands in his own. “_Thank you.”_

“I understand why you want to break your curse,” Geonhak says.

Hwanwoong smiles bitterly. “I’ve gotten used to avoiding eye contact, but sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes my focus slips.” Hwanwoong looks like he’s about to shrivel up into his bag. He steps one step closer, and pecks Geonhak on the cheek.

Now Geonhak feels like shriveling too.

“Thanks for making me feel safe,” Hwanwoong says, voice tiny.

“Thanks for making me feel less alone, even if it’s just for a moment.”

“I’m sorry I have to leave.”

Geonhak vigorously shakes his head. “No, you need to keep going. I’m sure you’ll find a way to change something. You don’t deserve to live like that.”

Hwanwoong smiles at him and releases his hands. He steels himself with a breath, and heads out the door.

Geonhak follows him out. “Let me see you off,” he says.

The sun sets everything aglow in soft light, the needles on all the pine trees dipped in gold. The two of them walk past the gas pumps towards the single road. If either of them notices the other walking a bit too slowly, they don’t mention it.

But as much as they try to prolong it, the road approaches too fast. Geonhak looks down either direction. He feels different today, standing there, but the road is the same as it always is.

Hwanwoong shifts his weight between his feet, looking uncertainly into the distance. Geonhak wonders if there’s something missing, something he forgot. He’s suddenly plagued with worry for Hwanwoong, worry that something will happen along the way, or that he won’t get an answer, or he’ll get one that isn’t what he needs, or something else goes wrong – there are too many possibilities, all unthinkable now.

“There has to be a way I can help you,” he says.

“You’ve already done enough for me. Don’t worry,” Hwanwoong responds.

“But it’s dangerous out there. And you’re alone.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Hwanwoong looks out towards the sun. “You’re never alone. If you walk a path meant for two on your own, by the end there will be something new with you.” His voice is low. Wistful. “I hope whatever is with me at the end can give me an answer.”

He reaches out and clasps Geonhak’s hand again. “Thank you.”

And he sets off. Geonhak can’t take his eyes off his retreating back. He’s already gotten used to not being able to look away.

He wonders, when Hwanwoong is nearly invisible against the setting sun, whether the chill he gets down his spine is because Hwanwoong paused, looked back.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: keonhee's curse is that pigeons hate him they just absolutely attack him if they're nearby
> 
> okay this is not. .. my best work oops but honestly the more I wrote this the more I got sucked into my own au lmaO…. there's like ... .. so much more to the story that developed while i wrote this bc i've been sitting on it for like three months now ..maybe i'll just write a book pfhtbht but! I probably won’t continue this as a fic unless I suddenly get wack inspired or maybe if people dESperately want me to I MIGHT be peer pressured <3 (actually please do let me know if you want to see more things along these lines, like weird snapshots or first chapters or melancholia, bc as much as i want to write humor this is my default mood)


End file.
